


Remedy or Tragedy

by Elysia21



Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: (mostly) Canon Compliant, Angst and lovins, But still sexy times, F/M, I do love angtsy lovins, One Shot, Post Kings Cage, War Storm, mild sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 13:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13659753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysia21/pseuds/Elysia21
Summary: After Cal chooses the crown over Mare, it's hard to look at him without being angry. But that anger doesn't come alone, familiar feelings rise unbidden as the fire prince tries to help Mare bandage an injury.*A one shot post Kings Cage of how Cal and Mare are dealing with their choices from the KC epilogue*





	Remedy or Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Victoria's sneak peek about Cal's hickey from Mare that she hinted at for War Storm I wanted to write a little one shot on how I think THAT came about ;)
> 
> Plus this is the first time I've written about Cal and Mare and I am loving it

The light in Whitefire palace was always significantly harsher than the sun outside. It was one of the things I always hated about being there. The sunlight was a natural glow, bringing a comforting heat. The Kingdom of the Rift was much more warm than the palace in Archeon, surprisingly, with warm orange walls and less ornate decorations that made it resemble the sunset. Funny that we are planning the rise of the dawn instead. As much as I’d rather be outside in its comforting glow now, I need to be inside trying to find any kind of bandage to cover my wound. The skin healer had offered to help me, but I refused. No, I needed to be reminded of what happens when I let my guard down. The Samos family along with a small handful of other high houses are working with the Scarlet Guard to help achieve one goal – get Maven off the throne. After that mission succeeds, however, our goals seem to contradict a bit more. Everyone knows it, but no one wants to acknowledge the fact. So for now, we work against a common enemy, ignoring the blatant truth of our position. This god forsaken palace, however, is still a mystery to me. After months in Whitefire palace as Mareena and Maven’s pet, I had memorized the layout as easily as the back of my hand. All I know how to find here was my own room on the west wing where the other members of the Scarlet guard were staying and the relatively small throne room where we had originally met. Now I was wandering the halls, looking for anything close to an infirmary. I realize that Silvers don’t usually concern themselves with infirmaries when they have skin healers at their service to heal any little cut or bruise, but I can’t imagine that one of these 50 rooms wasn’t any kind of healthcare facility.

 

I would never to admit it to Evangeline, but the Samos residence truly was in a breathtaking place. Finally after what felt like an hour of searching, but what probably wasn’t any more than 20 minutes, I see a glass door with the symbol of healing at the end of the hall. I push it open without a second thought, relieved to see no one else was in there. The only indication that anyone was ever in here a wrap of bandages and a dirty bowl of water on one of the beds. Ignoring them, I rifle through a cabinet to gather supplies and get to work on my injury. A bullet to the shoulder isn’t horrible, should heal easy enough, but the pain is still enough to make me cringe as I try to move my shirt down and out of the way. I finally give up and pull the shirt off over my head with one arm, leaving me in my undershirt. The sudden movement sends a sharp pain down my arm and makes me bite back a yelp. The pain and frustration distracts me enough that I barely notice when a familiar heat enters the room. I first think of the sun setting outside, its warm glow illuminating the small room around me, but as the warmth intensifies I realize its not the sun at all.

Or at least not my sun anymore.

“Are you alright?” Cal says quietly as I turn to look at him. His shirt is stained from silver and red blood both, how much of it is his, I try not to think about. He isn’t my concern anymore. He is my enemy. But seeing those bronze eyes on me still invokes a sensation I try hard to press down. His eyes land on my bare shoulder where I’m sure he can see the fresh bloom of red blood.

“I’m fine-” I grind out before he can say anything else. With my other hand I grab a wet washcloth and start to clean the front of my wound. Silently, Cal moves to the bed that holds the abandoned supplies – his supplies I’m sure. He tears his shirt off only to replace it with a fresh one, but not before I get a glimpse of his toned muscles. The scars mapping the pale skin. I remember running my fingers along the raised skin – raking them down his back. When he turns back towards me, I quickly avert my eyes and rinse my own cloth in a basin of water. I don’t need to look to know he’s walking towards me, the heat presses in around me in time with his footsteps.

“Don’t-” is all I can say.

He stops, “Mare. You’re hurt, please let me help you.”

I scoff loudly and turn to face him, “Are you going to tell me to go see a skin healer? Because that’s what _silvers_ would do,” I spit the word out like venom, “I am _not_ a silver. But you know that. I am a red and I always will be. And I don’t want to see a damn skin healer – I want to remember what happens when I let my guard down. When I get distracted during a mission. What happens when I look for _you_.” I’m so angry  that the words don’t stop flowing – not even when I realize what I said. I got distracted in battle because I was looking for Cal. I was always looking for Cal to make sure he was okay when we fought side by side before, and even now I can’t shake the habit. I had no intention of telling him that though, not until my angry words threatened to choke me. I breath heavy but keep my mouth shut, internally cursing myself.

If he realized the implications of what I said, he doesn’t show it. His hands gently take the wet cloth from me, “No. No skin healer. I just want to help.” I realize the bullets exit wound is hard for me to reach, but still dripping blood. With a sigh of defeat I nod and turn to allow him to help. With gentle hands, he pushes the strap of my shirt down and starts to clean the tender skin of my shoulder blade. Against my will, my skin sparks at his touch, He doesn’t flinch – why would he? He is more than used to my little jolts. While one hand continues to clean up the blood, the other smoothing down my shoulder and arm. My breath catches and I try to push down the feeling rising in my chest. The cold of the rag is removed and the next thing I feel are his lips feather light against the skin of my spine. 

“I am so sorry, Mare.” His whisper is so low I can barely hear it. _Push him away, Mare._ My mind screams at me, but my heart is quick to silence it. The past week my heart has been a broken mess, shrapnel piercing me at every turn. This is the first time I feel it begin to heal, and I can’t give that up. Even when I know it will be shattered after. I abandon myself to the feeling of his warm lips moving up the back of my neck as he murmurs, “I love you.” My eyes stay closed shut. Shut against the dying sun. Shut against the war. Shut against the reality of the situation. Leaving me alone in my thoughts, alone with Cal. I feel hot tears welling behind shut eyelids and try to blink them away. He pulls away too quickly and finishes the bandages, tightly securing them against my skin. His heat retreats as he moves away from me. _Please come back._ My heart yells. _Please don’t leave me again._ But he’s gone. I hear the door shut behind him and the tears start to fall. The pain in my shoulder is still there, but I don’t notice it much. I force back my sobs, refusing to sit and cry. Not now, not when we did this to ourselves. We should have known better. _I_ should have known better.

 

Now that the sun has set and is no longer brightening the halls, it feels cold. Dark and cold, only illuminated by specks of light from the stars.  I intend to go to my  room, I tell myself,  b ut in the late hours of the night I find myself wandering the hallways  again . I start to develop a map in my head of the palace – the throne room and the dining room are adjoined in the  north , East Wing is for the royal family of the Rift including Evangeline and Ptolemus as well as Cal and his grandmother, West Wing is for guests which would include Farley and I, and the courtyard is placed in the center of the foyer. The moon is high in the sky when I find myself in the East Wing. I know I shouldn’t be here, I have no reason to be. There are very few guards throughout the palace,  a bit of information that I note for later on when I may need it. Right now I almost wish there were some, something to turn me away from where I was going. I need rest and I know that, but I can’t sleep when I can feel the ghost of Cal’s lips on my skin. Before I know it, I find myself at his door. I can see a dim light coming from  the crack below it , from a candle or lamp is my guess. I don’t knock. 

I push the door open and step inside quietly. Cal is standing in loose pants and a light shirt over by the open window, small flames dancing in his palm as he looks out across the hills. Part of me thinks he doesn’t realize I’m there, but deep down I know he does. He has a soldier’s vigilance and isn’t snuck up on easily. He closes his hand and extinguishes the flame, hands pressing against the open windowsill. He doesn’t look back when he speaks, “Why are you here?”

I don’t answer but close the door behind me and move slowly towards his shadowy figure.  _ Shadow of the flame.  _ But Cal isn’t a shadow – he is the flame itself. Bright enough to blind. Hot enough to burn.  At my silence, he finally turns around and watche s  me cross the room. I can see the tension in his body, feel the temperature rise in the room.  His eyes are silver in the darkness of the room and I can’t help but look at him. 

“Why?” He asks again, lower this time.

I don’t have an answer, I think that’s why I do it. I can’t think of what to say and so I let my actions speak. Speak things they shouldn’t say. My hands close around his face as I press my lips to his. He freezes for just a moment before his arms wrap around me. His mouth moves against mine, lips hungrily meeting. My hands slide up into his hair, feeling the dark strands sliding smoothly through my fingers. I can feel my resolve already crumbling as he drags his teeth against my lower lip. 

“Mare,” He breathes as he walks me backwards towards what I can assume is his bed. My hands go to the hem of his shirt, gripping the fabric and ripping it up over his head, ignoring the sharp pain in my shoulder at the movement. He stumbles slightly as he gathers me up in his arms and lays me down on the sheets. I can already feel his body temperature rising, skin almost burning to the touch. I welcome the feeling. His hands slide under my shirt and around my waist. “I love you, Mare. I miss you, please I need you.”

The words murmured against my skin hit like a bullet.  _ Don’t do this Mare. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to him. _ But I ca n’ t stop. I help him pull my shirt over my head and push back  any tears that threaten me.  I know this is a mistake,  l ike putting a band aid on a  fatal wound  and hoping it stops the bleeding,  but I can’t stop myself.  The rest of my clothes join his on the floor and I close my eyes once again. I can almost pretend  we’re at the notch, tucked in close at night hiding from ou r nightmares. Or at the  barracks sneaking in time between training sessions. But no, we’re  in a palace. Back in time where he is silver royalty – soon to be the King of Norta.  From the fire prince to the flaming King. He places open mouthed kisses against my throat and it brings me back, my hands tightening against his back.  The voice in my head that tells me to stop moves farther and farther awa y as he moves against me and soon I can think of nothing but Cal in my arms. The love of my life, the misunderstood prince.  _ Cal can follow orders, but he cannot make choices.  _ Maven’s words echo unwelcome in my head. He made his choice,  a choice  that broke both of us. Yet neither of us can seem to follow through with  it  this time.

***

 

T he sun rising above the mountains wakes me from my deep sleep. The soft pink floods the room telling me it is early. Early enough that the hallways are still probably empty. I don’t need to look over to know where I am but I do anyways. Cal sleeps beside me, one hand over his chest as it rises and falls slowly. My fingers ache to brush his hair away from his eyes, but I refrain. I see the damning marks of the night before like bruises against his pale skin. I feel my face flush, hoping it isn’t as obvious to anyone else but me. Slowly, I slip out of the bed and pull on my clothes from the floor. He sleeps deeply, showing no signs of waking as I gather my stuff and move towards the door but his sleep-addled voice stops me in my tracks.

“You’re leaving.” It isn’t a question, but a simple statement. He sits up in the bed now, the sheets pooled around his waist. 

I open my mouth to speak but my voice cracks, “ What else did you think was going to happen?” The words hover in the room with familiarity. It’s what he said to me after he told me he was accepting the crown.  He pulls on his pants and strides towards me, pain obvious on his face.

“Mare, please.” He reaches out to take my hand but I pull away. Did he expect that we were fine now? That this meant we were together again? He was wrong.

“I needed a distraction. Remember? That’s what you are.” The words are harsh and I can see the hope in his burning eyes come crashing down.

His hands drop to his sides as he stands up straighter,  presenting himself as the King he is meant to become, “ Well I’m glad to be of your service once again, Mare. Since it seems all I seem to be to you is a pawn to use in whatever game you’re playing.”

I deserve it, I know I do, but the words hit me hard all the same. Normally, I would snap back. Aim to hurt deeper and strike harder, but I can’t. I feel an open pit in my chest, threatening me to swallow me. I feel unshed tears building and force the words out, “You know that isn’t true. Cal, I loved you.”

He shakes his head in denial, “No, Mare. You don’t love anyone. You see people for what they can do for you, how they can help you. No matter how much they love you.” His anger  fades away , voice dropping low, “No matter how much  _ I  _ love you.” 

My eyes automatically slide to the crown sitting on the dresser at the far side of the room, anchoring myself. Reminding myself what his love is. What he chose over me. He notes my gaze and pales as silver floods his face. “But not as much as you love your crown. Not as much as your  _ birthright _ .”

“I’m doing it for Norta. To _help_ the kingdom. Imagine what we can do to make things different if I’m king. Mare, please understand.” His voice is pleading as he moves closer to me.

I step back towards the door and place a hand on the doorknob, “I do understand. Which is what makes this so hard.” Without another word, I step out into the hall, leaving him standing alone in his room. Alone with his crown. And leaving myself alone with my thoughts, threatening to drown me. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated, let me know what you think and if you want more :)


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